


the familiar quandary

by CurareChai



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Gl'bgolyb (Homestuck) Is A Horrorterror, Squiddles, angst? i guess angst, the squiddle session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-04-04 19:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurareChai/pseuds/CurareChai
Summary: Gl'bgolyb sighed, her tentacles stretching and swaying in the water of her home. She had woken again to the distinctive sensation of something unsaid.





	the familiar quandary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [graveExcitement (arachnids)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnids/gifts).



> A gift for graveExcitement (arachnids)! I'm not sure if 'Gl'golyb is the last living member of the Squiddle Session' is quite what you were expecting when you asked for other Sburb sessions, but hopefully you enjoy it!

Gl'bgolyb sighed, her tentacles stretching and swaying in the water of her home. She had woken again to the distinctive sensation of something unsaid. It was very disquieting, to not know what she wanted to say aloud. She would not be able to say it in any case, this fragile world was hers to protect and she would not ruin it, but it would be nice to know what it is she would say.

She still wasn't sure why Squrm's code had chosen this as her blessing. To watch and be worshiped and unable to speak. Even for a player of her strength, it was taxing. Hard to maintain the memories of each of her fallen friends as they succumbed to the screaming darkness. Hard to carry the carcass of a world she could barely remember, of a sea warmer and brighter and sharper than this one.

Hard to hear the brief strains of a song that once defined her people and her session, parodied as pastel animations with childish woes. There were so many things in this universe that were perverse imitations of that which she used to know. She had not understood, millenia ago, what it meant to be a Crone of Life, what it truly took to bridge the old and new forever. She is still not sure she understands now, doing so little for so long, lying here in the sand waiting for something to _change_.

She remembers being replete, in the days before the game started. Whether it was Squrm or them that caused it she could not say, only that one of them caused the Hunger that chased her every movement. She does not feel regret but if she did it would be for this, for bringing this voracious need to possess into this universe and for watching as it took her session and this one.

Far above she heard a different melody, one of phaser fire and painted in a million rainbow streaks filtering through the water above. It was time for another meal, then. She had not realized she was due yet, but no matter. She watched the violet half-dweller drag his spoils towards her, surveyed his barely-hidden disgust with cool disregard, and tried to remain impassive until he left-

It was no use. The blood of these paltry creatures had inflamed her Hunger. With merely a flick of her tentacles she devoured them, crunching through bone and muscle without pause to get to the soul. She hated herself for resorting to this, the dying screams of creatures barely enough to slake her thirst. This world carried less and less life these days, between the fading of her people and the damage this new world wrought on its own, and these morsels of sparks could not be sustained forever. She chewed regardless, eking out every last scrap to sustain herself, to pursue her life until its bitter end. 

\---

She cannot recall going to sleep but she must have, for after feasting she dreamt of the Old Land. Before even opening her eyes she could tell by the water, buoyant in a way she hardly remembered. She could feel the life too, the vibrant souls of other squiddles, and that more than anything made her open her eyes.

The faces of her fellow players greeted her, pastel eyes set in blackened voids. They were not smiling (expressions made little difference in the deep) but they were happy, the air redolent with their emotions in a roiling mass. They were so young and hopeful, in the days before Squrm. She yearned to reach out to touch them, to talk to her old friends, but found her body rigid and unmoving. 

She watched frozen as they walked around her, talked right through her, the miasma of feelings growing darker and thickening the atmosphere. She watched helpless as Squrm started and the Hunger took root, as the 48 of them dwindled and dwindled. As Oglogoth lost his sight while breeding their universe and Nrub'yiglith lost their soul to the void, she watched the few of them left make the Crossing to the new universe and hoped this was all that was required of her. 

Her history kept playing however, keeping her captive in this miserable dream. She watched as they became gods of their own creation, developing a hierarchy to encompass the ruling of all things great and small. She watched as they all realized, her first of all, that being a god did not mean you could not die.

She watched them all succumb over the years, every single element ebbing as the Alternian Empire continued, as the Hunger was unabated. She felt every single pang of life fading from her senses, leaving her bereft of yet another friend. She stood there unmoving as finally she was alone, and then let the illusion of the dream bubble fade, watching the writhing backdrop of the cosmos expose the seething resentment that was left of their lives. 

She floated before the Noble Circle, watching them deliberate. They looked down at her, speaking without opening their mouth. _Hello again, Gl'bgolyb. Are you satisfied?_ She didn't know what to say, feeling their blame keenly. As if she had chosen her fate or theirs. As if she did not always have a choice, if she were willing to condemn this world. 

She opened her mouth, half surprised that she was allowed again to move. She could speak of blame, but there was only one emotion that she could bring herself to voice. _This is the world we all built_ , she begged, voice hazy as it always was, the only place where she was able to speak, hoping for salvation for a crime she never committed. _This is what we valued, what we chose. **Please**_. She looked at the few impenetrable gazes left, the Horrorterrors who had not yet forgiven her for having what they craved. She could not meet the eyes of the rest, who looked at her unseeing, who did not remember another life. Is this what Squrm wanted her to know? Was this the curse of having life? She took a breath and then another and another, frantic and heaving in gasps of water until she came to.

She woke soundless, but with her mouth parted over that single word she couldn't let escape. _**PLEASE**_


End file.
